


His Sin, His Soul

by Ryu_Reikai_Akuma



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dragon Sickness, F/M, Injury, M/M, Rough Sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 15:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1555406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryu_Reikai_Akuma/pseuds/Ryu_Reikai_Akuma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin did everything in his power to avoid giving in to his sick desires and breaking norms and laws, but as time went by it was getting more and more difficult to keep his resolve. It was getting more and more difficult to not claim Kili as his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Sin, His Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Title derived from Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov because I love that book to pieces. It's originally 'My sin, my soul'.

“What do you think?”

Thorin’s attention focused on the young dwarf in front of him at the mention of his name. He hadn’t paid attention to what was happening, dazzled as he was by the bright innocent grin and shining eyes, the picture of youth and innocence, the complete antithesis of himself. He felt that dangerous flame within him rise, spreading across his body, gripping his mind with an all consuming desire to possess. He knew Kili would likely not mind. He could demand and Kili would obey without question. Just a few words and Kili would bend to his desire. Just one bold move and Kili would be his.

But, no. That’s not right. That’s sick. That’s disgusting. Kili was his sister-son, one of his heirs, a dwarf he had helped raise, the student he had taught. Kili was never to be his. Regardless of how much Thorin longed to hold him in his arms, kiss him, touch him, mark him, call him his, Kili would not and should not be his.

Thorin turned his gaze to the target practice and the arrow embedded perfectly at the center. Pride bloomed in his chest.

“Well done,” Thorin complimented with a smile, patting Kili’s shoulder. His perfect soldier. His perfect prince.

Kili’s smile widened. The expressive eyes sparkled, proud to meet Thorin’s expectation and the illness in Thorin’s blood sang to him the sweet sick possibilities. He could just ask as he had done to the uncountable dwarfs who had warmed his bed. He was a Durin, the heir to the greatest dwarf kingdom, the strongest of all dwarf lords. It was within his right to demand relief from lust burning inside him. It was his right to claim Kili.

“Thorin?”

Thorin pulled his hand from Kili’s shoulder as if he had been burnt. He looked away to avoid the questions and pain in the archer’s eyes.

“Go practice with your sword.” He commanded.

Thorin left the training ground quickly, hiding his face in shame, fearing others would see through him. What kind of dirty, sick, rotten dwarf desired the innocence of his unsuspecting charge? Thorin was a respectable dwarf, he was a king, he should know far better than to even think about it, yet even as he walked away his body and his mind called out for Kili. Thorin grimaced, wishing the longing would disappear.

* * *

Thorin pushed dark brown hair over one shoulder, exposing long graceful neck to him. His eyes glazed over with desire and he bit the shoulder harshly, leaving his mark to be seen by all. The body below him thrashed, trying to escape the sudden pain, but Thorin’s weight kept it down.

In the throes of passion it was easy to ignore the wispy beard on his partner’s face, the supple breasts instead on flat chest, the curvy body instead of plain muscular one, the gentle voice instead of a deep one. This was not Kili, not his sister-son, not his heir, not his student, not the impressionable dwarf who thought far too highly of him. This was a willing dwarf lady, respectable and worthy of being crowned queen at his side.

But this wasn’t Kili. This wasn’t who Thorin wanted.

Lust and frustration spurred Thorin on. He took and took and took because it was his right, because he could. He tried to prolong the oblivion, to stay in a world of blinding passion, to quiet his yearning for the forbidden. But, nothing last forever and Thorin came inside the nameless lady, muffling Kili’s name on the back of her neck.

* * *

Work provided a welcome distraction. It reminded Thorin of his role and many responsibilities, of expectations and boundaries. It was his anchor and objective. It kept him in line. It kept him from being consumed by want. It kept him sane. It kept others safe from him.

Tiredly, Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose. He was tired. His mind felt numb. Light from the candles around him seemed to blur, signifying the length of time he had spent in the study. These, however, meant he was performing his duties well. He thought of his grandfather lost amongst gold and his father absorbed by revenge and grief. Thorin was different. He had learnt. He had seen failures and the pain they could bring. He would not repeat them. He would not let his people down.

He ought to rest, his entire body demanded rest, but he knew the moment his mind left his work, it would turn to the empty side of his bed, how perfect it would be to have a youthful body filling the cold space, to enjoy a male body there, to wake to that familiar smile and bright eyes. No. He couldn’t give in to his sick dreams. So Thorin kept working, reading one document after another. He gave his approvals and rejections, wrote replies and suggestions, found the wave of sleepiness as midnight approached.

“I thought you’d be here.”

Thorin looked up in surprise, not hearing anyone enter the private study. Kili stood in front of his desk, grinning triumphantly over correctly guessing Thorin’s whereabouts. Thorin, however, only stared as light danced on Kili’s figure, beckoning him, reminding him to a dream he once had. Again the demon in his mind whispered filthy temptation to stake his claim, make love, possess, love, mark, please, claim. Thorin clenched his hands tightly, desperately trying to control himself.

“Why are you here?”

Kili shrugged, an innocent but graceful movement that somehow inflamed Thorin’s want. “I thought I’d accompany you.”

Blunt nails biting into his palms barely managed to keep Thorin’s hope from growing. Kili shouldn’t care for his comfort and happiness, duties be damned. He should leave Thorin in his quiet misery, with the sickness in his mind and curse in his blood. It’s for his own good, for what was there to care for in an uncle who loved his own nephew and a leader driven mad by forbidden longing and lust.

But this was Kili. Sweet, innocent, reckless Kili who looked at danger with a smile, who’d jump into uncertain situations if it meant a possibility of reaching his objectives, who fought with all his might, who loved with all his heart. The archer looked at Thorin, his mistaken good intention reflected in his expressive eyes. Guilt assaulted Thorin at the sight. He didn’t deserve this. He should receive scorn and disgust, not kindness.

“You should go to sleep. I still have much to do,” Thorin said gruffly, injecting as much disapproval as he could into his words.

Kili’s smile faltered, but he didn’t give up easily. “I’m not sleepy. I want to help you. Let me…”

“This is not a game!” Thorin interrupted, his voice raising. Regret clenched his heart at the sight of Kili recoiling from him, but this had to be done. “I don’t need your help.”

Kili’s smile completely vanished. He swallowed thickly, broken as Thorin never wanted him to be. “If you tell me how…”

“No,” Thorin interrupted again, looking back to the document before him. “Go.”

Thorin hoped the shadow hid his remorse. He hoped Kili didn’t see how much hurting him broke his heart. He hoped Kili would stop caring. He hoped Kili would never want to be on his side. The door to the study creaked open then closed. Thorin closed his eyes tightly, hoping he could find solace in knowing that this was for Kili’s sake.

* * *

It was simultaneously a relief and a torture to not see Kili. The madness slithered restlessly in Thorin’s mind, silent only at the sight of precious metals and gems. His dreams illustrated his yearning and regret combating ferociously for control over him. His wakeful hours were filled with desperate attempts to not want. Thorin was tired but he must be strong. He mustn’t let Kili be a victim of his corruption.

The door to his study opened loudly as it hit the wall. As Dwalin strode toward him, eyes stormy and lips set in a thin line, and Thorin thought this was it. They knew. They’d lock him away from his throne and his forbidden One and they’d be safe from harm, Kili would be safe from him.

Thorin should confess and surrender but the power in his veins demanded explanation and submission. His mounting frustration further irked him. He frowned at his old friend, malicious words on his tongue.

“Kili is injured during the hunt. He fell off his pony and was unconscious.”

Only decades of ruthlessly practicing control kept Thorin from showing his shock and fear. His hands shook slightly as he tried to tidy his desk.

“How is he?” Thorin asked, sheer will preventing his voice from trembling.

Dwalin shook his head, either not seeing Thorin’s distress or mistaking it for concern for a beloved relative. If only he knew the truth. “I don’t know. I left as soon as I brought him to Dis but Oin is with him.”

Oin was with him. It would be all right. Oin was with him. He was old but he was one of the best healers. It would be all right. Kili would be all right.

Thorin repeated these thoughts to himself as he waited for a few minutes before leaving his study, not wanting to draw too much attention to his unnaturally great worry. These minutes felt far too long. Anything could happen in that short time. Thorin’s mind supplied him with horrific possibilities. What if his injury was fatal? Could Thorin live with the knowledge that he had driven Kili to distraction with cruel words to distract from his perversion? Dread filled him, making him sick as he briskly went to see his beloved.

Dis had tearstains on her face and Fili looked paler than usual and, oh, what wouldn’t Thorin give to have the right to show how his heart, too, was ripped apart. Oin allowed him to visit Kili. Thorin had half a mind to decline—they shouldn’t trust him with Kili, not when he couldn’t trust himself—but his longing won. In the end he risked his needs. In the end, he was too selfish and greedy.

Kili looked frail and tiny in his bed. A bandage was wrapped around his head. His body was covered by a thin shirt that showed his bruises. He was sleeping (Thorin couldn’t stop the thought of taking him to his chamber, nursing him back to health with his own hands, stealing a chance to grow a seed of affection deeper and stronger than familial one, keeping him locked away from any harm. He shouldn’t, but he could. It’s perhaps beneficial for Kili, but Thorin mustn’t) but he roused almost immediately when Thorin entered his room.

“Thorin?” He whispered in confusion. He tried to sit up and winced at the pain the movement cause. Thorin was at his side in an instant, stopping him, wishing he could soothe some of the pain. Kili looked tired in his arms, weakened by various injuries. Thorin would gladly give the blood that tied them together and kept them apart if that meant bringing back liveliness to Kili. “Don’t you have work to do?”

Thorin shook his head, his chest constricting painfully at the sight of his beloved in pain, his eyes hungrily roaming the expanse of bruised skin revealed. “It can wait,” He said, his voice cracking only slightly.

The reply didn’t seem to please Kili. He grimaced, sad and remorseful, once again putting aside his own state of well being for Thorin’s sake. “I don’t mean to bother you.”

“You never do.”

Kili let out a hollow laugh. “I do. I’m sorry. I will try better next time.”

Thorin shut his eyes tightly because after everything Kili still thought so highly of him. Because despite Thorin’s hurtful actions and words Kili still wanted to make him happy. Because despite the pain he was in he would risk taking more if Thorin commanded him to. Because Thorin could use a few chosen words to have him if he wanted to. Because he wanted to. Because he shouldn’t want to. Because despite knowing it was forbidden, Thorin still craved to own him.

“Kili,” Thorin said slowly, guilt and love clogging his throat. “You have done very well,” he said and how beautiful was the look of relief and gladness on Kili’s face. It was rivaled only by the glitter of the Arkenstone haunting Thorin in his dreams of the past. Thorin couldn’t stop himself. He kissed Kili’s forehead tenderly with all the love he had and would ever feel, with a lover’s promises he could not say, with devotion that would only disappear with his last breath. “Sleep now.”

Thorin watched Kili surrender to his dreams. Beads of perspiration gleamed like little diamonds on his skin. His hair was a tangled black crown. His lips looked like the softest velvet. Thorin’s vocal chords was tight with wish to confess sinful affection, his hands twitched with the desire to touch, his tongue longed to taste, his blood yearned to claim. Thorin closed his eyes. His lips still tingled from the kiss and he wanted more. He knew he had sealed his doom.

* * *

The sighting of Thrain gave Thorin an excuse to leave the Blue Mountains. It was a weak lead, but he couldn’t ignore it. If there was a chance, no matter how slim, that his father was alive, he would search for him. It was the least he could do to atone for the love growing stronger within him at the sight of Kili, for the increasingly powerful craving to touch and kiss and make Kili fully, truly, only his.

Thorin bore the exhaustion, discomfort, and coldness for they temporarily took his mind off the one he could not have. He kept searching, combing towns, forests, and mountains asking everyone who might know; following every possibility; hoping for a way to salvage his failure as a Durin. However, Thrain was nowhere to be found and his illicit dreams increased in frequency and intensity.

More of more often Thorin woke up with desperate needs. He mistook others as Kili and paid temporary lovers to mark and claim the way he couldn’t do to the young dwarf. But it was becoming not enough only to seek replacements. In his sleep Kili came to him spread out on silk sheet or on his knees on glittering gold or quiet and naked and completely debauched with hand prints and bite marks on his skin. Thorin’s body and mind conspired to demand him to return to Ered Luin and stake his claim on the archer, mark Kili with his name to ensure no one else would dare to even dream of him, ascertain that they were bound for life to no one else but each other, to completely possess what had always been his to demand and take. Why should he care about what others would think? There’s a voice in his head that continuously reminded him that it’s wrong, sick, disgusting, but as day went by, it grew more and more quiet until it was a mere whisper in his mind, a ghost of what was once the conscience of a respectable dwarf.

That’s when he met Gandalf.

If the wizard knew Thorin’s desperation to seek forgiveness for the depravity of his mind, he said nothing of it. He watched, quiet, as Thorin gathered his company, those he knew he could trust with the important quest to reclaim what had been taken away from him and his family. He kept his silence when Kili came forward, a very young dwarf with determination in his eyes, confidence in his smile, Thorin’s downfall in the words slipping from his mouth.

“Take me with you.”

Thorin should say no. Kili was too young, too inexperienced, too precious and Thorin would die if something were to happen to the one who carried his heart. But he was weak. He had been gone for too long. He couldn’t deny his affection. He was reluctant to say what could be the last goodbye. Most of all, he couldn’t resist the call of lust in his blood, fueled by dreams during the weeks of his solitary travel. He needed Kii as his sword and shield, he told himself. He needed the joy Kili brought, he said to his mind. He needed the strength Kili inspired him, he convinced himself. It had nothing to do with the passion running in his veins, lust burning his loins, desire prickling his skin, possessiveness nearly overtaking his mind.

“You may come,” He agreed.

Gandalf sent him a look, but he ignored it. He didn’t need a wizard to tell him he had made a mistake. The quest would be the end of him, one way or another, for if he succeeded, he knew he couldn’t stop himself from claiming Kili as his own regardless of others’ opinions. This quest marked the beginning of his fall and he was taking Kili down with him.

Thorin smiled to his prince, conveying affection and pride and no small amount of desire. He offered no correction to Kili’s misunderstanding even though his conscience whispered at the back of his mind, perhaps for the last time.

_I’m sorry._

**Author's Note:**

> I thought of making this the spin-off of [No One Must Know](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1183848) but in my mind both NOMK and this fic are about unrequited love. Kili’s PoV in NOMK and Thorin’s PoV in this fic are as we see in the films: just familial affection.


End file.
